“What’s that? There on the left?”
He stopped breathing, waiting, eyes staring into the darkness. He could just make out the dim outline of figures on the ledge above him but the moon was behind them, acting like a spotlight. He, on the other hand, lay in the deep shadows of the hillside. He could barely see his arm curled an inch or so in front of his nose.
Someone turned a flashlight on. The circle of light picked out a fallen tree, moved slowly across the hillside toward him…
He lay very still, trying not to breathe, praying the darkness and the scraggly vegetation concealed him. Every shallow, bruised breath was a reminder of how vulnerable he was, and the terror of being shot again was paralyzing — it hadn’t been so bad when he didn’t have time to think about it, but he was thinking about it now, thinking that he’d already had two close calls, and a third time was liable to be seriously unlucky. For the first time in his life he was too scared to move.
Fuck.
Please God…
“I’m telling you, he went in the river. I heard him hit the water.”
“I don’t see any blood.” That was the woman. Taylor felt a surge of hatred for her. Why couldn’t she mind her own business? Busybody bitch.
The flashlight beam swept past his boots and he tensed.
“Even if Orrin missed, there’s no way he survived that drop.”
“I’m just wondering why there’s no blood.”
And from further away: “That was point-blank range. One way or the other, he’s history.”
He couldn’t hear Will. But then Will wouldn’t have a lot to say now. Will was smart. Will knew when to shut up and what to do to stay alive. Will would be okay.
The flashlight switched off. The figures at the top of the hillside drew back.
Taylor closed his eyes. His chest hurt like he’d been kicked by a mule. Or a Transformer. He’d bought his nephew a couple of those for his birthday last week. Yeah, one of those red-eyed evil autobot dudes like Megatron or Starscream.
“If the river carries his body down…”
“…no ID on the body…”
Their voices were moving off.
A few moments later he nearly gave himself away when a couple of heavy items went smashing down the hillside past him — and he realized they had thrown Will’s pack and the tent into the river.
Chapter Six
“I didn’t even want to come on this goddamned trip. I did it for you.”
Taylor was dead. And he’d stood there and let it happen. Will felt dead himself; numb, empty — words didn’t begin to cover it.
Taylor was dead. Confirming the almost superstitious dread that Will had felt for weeks — ever since Taylor had been hit — that they were on borrowed time, that Taylor’s recovery had been nothing more than a temporary reprieve, that he had lost Taylor the night he’d turned him down. Told him he didn’t love him.
Didn’t love him?
And now it was too late.
“Are we going to walk all night?” the blond ape inquired. “Aren’t we ever going to make camp?”
Orrin walked ahead carrying a high-powered flashlight, the beam catching stark glimpses of tree trunks, rocks, the crooked trail winding up through the hillside. Will’s boot caught on a tree root; he stumbled over a rivulet in the trail, but caught himself.
“Don’t even think about it, asshole.” The woman nudged the base of Will’s spine with the barrel of her rifle. He ignored her. He didn’t give a damn if they shot him now. He should have jumped them when they killed Taylor. Why hadn’t he? Why had he stood there? Why had he let the rifle pointed at his head stop him? What was wrong with him that he’d chosen to stay alive when they’d killed Taylor? Because Taylor wouldn’t have; the gray-haired fucker had that right. Taylor would have gone for them; they’d have had to put him down to stop him. Taylor would have rather died — and so would Will, but yet Will had let them knock him down and tie his hands. He’d let them kill Taylor.
But what he wouldn’t do was let them get away with it.
They were going to pay. He was going to stay alive that long. All three of them were going to pay — he wasn’t sure how yet — for murdering Taylor. His eyes rested on Orrin’s back, picturing with grim pleasure blowing a hole in its retreat.
“Hey, he’s carrying a map or something in his pocket,” Stitch reported suddenly. He reached forward and grabbed the map out of Will’s back pocket.
Their weary procession stopped. Orrin plucked the map out of Stitch’s hands, unfolding it and turning the flashlight on it.
“How’d you miss that, Bonnie?” Stitch said, and the woman’s face — gargoyle-like in the ring of flashlights — twisted into a sneer.
“I had other things on my mind, moron. Like the fact that he’s a goddamned fed!”
“Knock it off, you two.” That was Orrin. He looked at Will and then down at the map. “Well, well. What’s this?” He pointed at the circled point on the map.
Will stared at him without speaking.
Bonnie and Stitch glared at him. Orrin smiled. He had nice, even white teeth. “This is where the plane went down.” The circle of flashlight beam moved across the map to the second circled point. “So what’s so important here?”
“Figure it out,” Will said.
“Oh, we will,” Orrin said. “We will.” He nodded to the others, and Bonnie prodded Will with her rifle again.
* * * * *
It had to be true love. Because if Taylor’s only incentive for getting himself off that mountainside was his own health and welfare, he’d have been happy to spend the rest of his — few — days right where he was. But Will’s only hope was Taylor, so he tried to work up a little enthusiasm.
But for chrissake…he’d already put in a full day’s hike before he’d got punched a
